[Jay-Z talking]
Talk to me man…
This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the muh'f**in noise up
We'll get right into the proceedings this evening
Headphones are distortin', bring it down a lil' bit
Okay, now we workin' wit it
The boy Face up in ba**line, Face — Mob
Welcome to New York City
It's ya boy Young Hov' chea
Kanye West on the track Chi-Town, what's goin' on now
Can I talk to y'all for a minute
Lemme talk to y'all for a minute
Just gimme a minute of ya time baby — I don't want much
Lemme talk to these muh'f**as, uhh
[Verse 1: Jay-Z]
Guess who's bizack
You still smellin' crack in my clothes
Don't make me have to relapse on these hoes
Take it back out to taxing them roads
When I was huggin' it, n***as couldn't do nuttin' with it
Straight from the oven with it, came from the dirt
I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt
You can blame my old earth, for the sh** she instilled in me
Still with me, pain plus work
sh** she made me milk this game for all it's worth
That's right, these n***as can't f** with me
I'm calling guts every time, drag my nuts every time
Homey, we make a great combination don't we
Me and the Face Mob, every time we face-off
Face it y'all, y'all n***as playing basic-ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on
That's why the streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool
[Hook: Kanye West]
Guess who's bizack
Back on the block with them O's
Face Mob, Mack Mittens and Hov'
Don't make me relapse
Back to the block with the four
Cause this street sh** is all I know
[Verse 2: Scarface]
From the womb to the tomb, a hot pot a jar and a spoon
Trying to make me forty thousand and move
Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons
Plain clothes wanna run in my room
But n***a guess who's bizack, it's ya boy Face Mob
Started with an eightball, gotta get this cake dawg
Give n***as a break, nah; you know how the game go
f** you think I slang for, to go against the grain, no
I'm out here in grind mode, wrapped up in the paper chase
I wanna f** a fine ho and candy paint the 88
Don't got no wholesale, cause that ain't how I wanna run it
Here take these five stones and bring a n***a back a hundred
Gotta see my feet dude, you do sh** a fiend do
The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool
Money is an issue and that's on the fo' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, and I come by with the fizzle
And make fo' sho' I get to work mines, a car at a time
We go to war and you ain't making a dime
Cause I got, sh** to lose; a n***a out here paying his dues
My baby walking gotta get him some shoes
It's a new game brewin', lemme give ya the rules
Get outta line and I'mma give ya the blues
It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules
Get outta line and I'mma give ya the blues, whoa
[Verse 3: Beanie Sigel]
Guess who's bizack
The boy B. Mizack, a.k.a. Mr. Crack-A-Brick
Turn a whole one from a half a brick, look I mastered this
You can smell it once the plastic rips
A hot plate'll make ya swell up if ya gas get clipped
You can make ya chips swell up, ya don't hafta pitch
Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch
Young'n never pump fake, and you'll get past the blitz
And keep ya whole hood on flip, like old box-spring
Pissy mattress sh**, low old box of things
Strictly gla**y sh**, I hug the block like quarter water
sh** I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter
Till like deuce in the morning, with the old heads
Slangin' loose quarters, this Philly cat back at it
Still f**in' with them crack addicts
Still bustin' with that black-matic
[Hook]